


i see you when i blink (or, this is so not punk)

by lowi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Punk, M/M, Punk Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowi/pseuds/lowi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Liam feels alive and wishes he was dead. Often simultaneously, and especially when he's hangover. And even moreso when he's hangover on Louis Tomlinson's sofa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see you when i blink (or, this is so not punk)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rowrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowrow/gifts).



Louis Tomlinson is a dick. Liam has never met a worse person in his whole life. He is also very smitten with him and he doesn’t know why he has such conflicting thoughts. It’s not meant to be like that. He’s not meant to think Louis Tomlinson is a dick but at the same time be smitten with him. He doesn’t want anything else to drink he tells Niall but yet, when he looks down at his hand, there is another pint there so maybe he didn’t tell Niall it at all. He isn’t sure. The leather fabric of the seats they’re occupying, wonderfully and horrendously precisely in front of the little stage-like corner of the bar where Louis Tomlinson is performing with his band Any Other Direction – which is a very odd name but Niall said it has a deep meaning but Liam has forgotten that meaning now – what was Liam thinking of again? Yeah, the leather fabric. He drags a hand across it and looks at Louis Tomlinson who is tuning his guitar.

They’re having a break, apparently. Which is why Niall left for a while but then came back with more pints. Liam had been impressed that Niall could carry five pints in his hands but he hadn’t offered to help because he wasn’t sure if he could stand up without falling over, and since Louis Tomlinson is a dick he’d surely make fun of him if he did fall over.

As he thinks of it, Liam’s not entirely sure if Louis Tomlinson is a dick. Niall said he is but then again he said that with bubbling laughter coming out of his nose as Louis Tomlinson and he had a competition of who could down their drink the fastest and Niall won easily but then Louis Tomlinson pulled a face so Niall started laughing and the beer went up his nose. But Liam also thinks Louis Tomlinson is a dick because even though Niall seems to like him and did tell Liam that he had to come with him tonight to see Louis Tomlinson and his band perform and that Liam would love Louis Tomlinson, that he was hilarious and really funny (which is the same thing, but Liam didn’t tell Niall this since he felt like he would sound kind of annoying if he did) and that Liam had to come _also_ because Niall is possibly having a crush on the main guitar player of the band so he would need some help to figure out if this was actually the case. No, actually, Liam thinks Louis Tomlinson is a dick not at all because of what Niall has said or done, but because Louis Tomlinson had taken one look at Liam when he came over and then grinned towards Niall and said ‘I didn’t know you knew anyone who can’t handle their alcohol!”

It was not true, Liam had thought and downed his drink very angrily. Now, now he’s a little bit inclined to think that Louis Tomlinson was right because he feels awfully tipsy and everything is spinning a little. But that doesn’t mean Louis Tomlinson is any less of a dick because, actually, Louis Tomlinson was the one who made Liam be this drunk since when he made that comment before strutting off to the set and starting to play, then he made Liam drink with an awful speed just to prove him wrong. Niall had looked a little worried, just ever so slightly, but he hadn’t protested whenever Liam had suggested another round.

Liam loves Niall. He’s his best friend. He doesn’t judge and he’s cuddly and he’s very cute when he, like now, hands a pint to Zayn Malik, the aforementioned guitar player, and his cheeks are just slightly redder than usual.

The entire band, the threepiece that makes up Any Other Direction, has joined Liam and Niall’s table as they have finished playing. Or so Liam thinks. He did think they were just having a break, as Louis was tuning his guitar, a while ago. Or was it longer ago? He doesn’t know for sure. But they’re all sat there and there is still music playing from somewhere but the stage is completely dark now. Liam turns his head a little too quickly so everything is dizzy but manages to focus on the person next to him’s eyes. ‘Harry,’ he says when he’s figured out that the eyes come with a set of curls held back with a headscarf. ‘Did you finish?’

‘Finish?’ a loud voice next to Liam, but on the other side, says. It’s not Harry. Harry is smiling a little and Liam feels dizzy. ‘With what, Liam Payne?’

Liam likes the voice and how it says his whole name. He should turn his head the other side but Harry is still smiling and Liam feels warm all over and he likes being drunk. It doesn’t matter that Louis Tomlinson told him he can’t hold his alcohol.

‘Louis Tomlinson,’ he says. Then he stops for a while and turns his head as fast as he can and feels dizzy again. ‘That’s you.’ There are blue eyes very near him and they’re piercing him kind of and he is still smitten with this dick-person that’s Louis Tomlinson.

The laughter is there again but Liam can’t look away from the blue-ness. He is so dizzy. So, so, so dizzy.

-

Liam opens his eyes when there’s someone patting his arm. He doesn’t know where he is or who the person patting his arm is or where he is. Or where he is. He doesn’t know.

‘Liam, are you okay?’ Someone who was patting his arm has now stopped doing so and is talking. ‘Do you need something?’

‘Yes. I am okay,’ Liam says. He doesn’t know where he is and he wants to close his eyes so he does and eventually he hears some steps and then the someone who was patting his arm is gone.

-

Next time Liam opens his eyes his head is pounding and he feels extremely thirsty. By some mysterious force there’s a glass of water right next to his head, on a small table he doesn’t recognise. He decides to worry about that after he has had some water.

His hand is shivering as he grabs the glass, and when he gulps down some of the water he feels horribly ill. The bathroom. He needs it right now. He’s going to be sick and he doesn’t know where to go. He sits up, carefully, and puts a hand across his mouth. The room spins around him and it’s awfully bright. He’s in a living room, an extremely messy living room, and there’s clothes everywhere on the floor and Liam is wearing the same clothes as last night.

He feels gross. And, when he thinks about it, he doesn’t remember anything from last night. Clearly. As he doesn’t know where he is or why he’s in this unknown place. It’s awful. But really, he’s more importantly feeling so sick he can barely think about that. He stands up, carefully, and everything spins around him again. The bathroom’s got to be somewhere close, he decides, and takes a couple of careful steps out of the living room and enters some kind of hallway. It’s equally messy but there are a lot of doors and one of them just has to be a bathroom. All kind of flats have bathrooms. It’s a fact.

It spins again so Liam puts his hand against the wall and closes his eyes for a while. When he opens them again, he swallows, which is a horrendous thing to do, and sees his shoes placed neatly together on the floor. They’re the only pair of shoes that stand like that; all the rest are upside down and whatnot, towering on the shoe-shelf. He swallows again and tries to think. Bathroom. One of the doors is closed, but there’s some faint music coming out from behind it. Another leads to a room where he can see a bed. But the next one – there’s tiled floor in that room.

He practically runs in there, which is making everything spin again, and with shaking fingers he locks the door and then he collapses on the cold floor. After resting his cheek against the icy tiles for a short while, he crawls over to the toilet bowl.

Just the moment he starts throwing up, someone knocks at the door. Liam wants to die. It is impossible that the person didn’t hear him puke, because it is impossible to puke silently.

‘Are you okay?’ Liam wants to die even more. The person outside the bathroom is Louis Tomlinson and suddenly images from yesterday – Louis’ blue eyes, Liam telling him he smells like kiwi fruits, Louis’ hand warm on Liam’s neck – come tumbling into his head. He can’t make any sense of it, but oh my god, he must be in Louis Tomlinson’s flat and he has just puked in his toilet bowl.

It’s not that Louis Tomlinson is a world famous celebrity but he’s still kind of famous and at least  more famous than Liam is ever going to be by miles, even if Liam manages to finish his degree in Physics and go on to do a PhD and maybe get published, because, like, no one but other physicists would ever read that and they’d probably not recognise _Liam_ as the writer of that either way and, like, Any Other Direction is played on Radio Four every now and then and Niall did forward Liam an article from the Daily Mail the other week where Zayn had been papped on a night out with this pink-haired girl, so they’re, like, slightly famous. And, well, Liam has just puked in Louis Tomlinson’s toilet. This could easily be some horribly embarrassing chick-flic which bases all its viewability on being cringe-worthy.

When Louis Tomlinson repeats himself, a bit louder, Liam responds ‘Yeah,’ and it’s so weak and shaky that he wants to die even more. What has he done? How on earth did he get so drunk last night? And, importantly, why did he end up on Louis Tomlinson’s sofa and not in his own lovely bed so he could go and throw up in his very own toilet without having to worry about anyone hearing except Niall and Niall doesn’t matter because he’s heard and seen everything already? Why?

Liam has never met any of them before, the Any Other Direction members, even though Niall has been close mates with Harry for ages, but Niall, while being the friendliest person ever, is rather bad at making his groups of friends mix. Liam usually doesn’t mind, because the few times he’s been dragged to dinner or the cinema with, like, Marvin and Rochelle, he’s mostly been waiting for it to end and felt a little bit out of it, as though he doesn’t quite belong. Yesterday was – well, yesterday he was plastered off his face so yesterday doesn’t really count.

He hates himself so much. Why on earth would he do this to himself? He grips around the cold edge of the toilet bowl and feels like vomiting again. Louis Tomlinson – Louis _bloody Tomlinson_ – knocks on the door again and Liam rests his forehead against the toilet seat even though that’s an absolutely disgusting thing to do, but he seriously wants to die. He can never leave this bathroom, that’s for sure.

‘Liam, are you fine?’ Louis Tomlinson’s voice sounds through the door.

Liam sniffs. He is so dizzy. He’s never ever been hangover like this before. He vows to never drink again, by banging his head slightly against the gross toilet bowl, and then he, still in that weak, shaky and embarrassing voice, says, ‘Sure. Gonna take a shower, if that’s okay?’

‘Yeah, 'course. I can get you a towel.’ There are steps again, and this was not how it was meant to go. It was meant to be a towel in the bathroom. Or else, Liam was meant to just turn on the water and then stay in here until he felt more human, and then leave without Louis Tomlinson noticing, somehow. Now, he will have to open the bathroom door and Louis Tomlinson will _see_ Liam looking like shit.

At least Liam assumes he looks like shit. He feels like shit. This is so terrible, and his stomach keeps revolting and now Louis is back and is knocking at the door. Liam is not sure how, but he manages to crawl over to the door relatively quickly and stand up. He’s shaking so badly and his vision is a little blurred so it’s darker in the periphery. He unlocks the door and hopes for the best, that Louis will shove the towel at him so he can just grab it and then Louis will leave. And not look at him. So embarrassing. He’s in a punkstar’s bathroom and dying. This is so not punk. Louis Tomlinson will think Liam really is the most boring lightweight ever. Which he thought already last night. Great job on Liam’s behalf, confirming that hypothesis.

When the door opens, Liam is grasping the door handle so hardly his fingers are whitening. Or, possibly, he’s pale from the fact that his hangover is killing him and he is extremely dehydrated. He’s not sure. He hopes Louis won’t notice. Louis eyes are just as blue as Liam remembers them, but he looks a bit softer, in the pale light, and the bags under his eyes are deeper. It’s interesting that Liam picks up on that as he doesn’t remember thinking about Louis Tomlinson’s eyebags last night. But on the other hand, what does he remember? He’s kinda glad he’s so hangover because he’s sure he’s so pale that he cannot physically be blushing right now. Otherwise he would. ‘Here you go,’ Louis says and hands him a white and rather fluffy towel. Liam takes it, fingers shaking again. He doesn’t want to look at Louis so he looks at his legs, and he tries not to think of how embarrassing it is that he’s still wearing the same clothes as last night.

Louis is in grey trackpants and looks like he’s drowning in the large Ramones t-shirt he’s wearing. His feet are bare. ‘Thanks,’ Liam says shakily and wants to close the door in Louis’ face that looks like the face of health itself. Why is Liam so absolutely gross?

‘Do you need anything else? You don’t look like you’re feeling to well.’ Louis’ voice is soft and careful, as though he knows that Liam is so hungover every sound is bouncing against his brain and makes him want to throw up again. Liam is happy Louis said that he looks _like_ he’s not feeling too well, and that he didn’t say ‘you look awful’ even though he’s sure that’d be more truthful. A white lie has never been more appreciated and Liam will forever be grateful to Louis.

‘I’m okay, thanks,’ he says but his voice shakes again so the last part is barely anything else than a whisper. Louis seems to understand that Liam’s dying to be alone, or else he’s disgusted by Liam’s state and just wants to leave as fast as he can, but either way he nods and then closes the door. Liam sinks down on the floor after locking it again and just sits there. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to take a shower. He feels so weak.

It takes him at least five minutes to get out of his clothes but eventually he’s sitting in the bathtub and holding the showerhead as firmly as he can. That is, not firmly at all. His head is resting against the cold bathtub and he’s never felt worse. He doesn’t want to use up all the water, so the shower is just turned on ever so slightly, just to, like, make him feel something that’s not horrendous shaking or sickness. Or, well, feel something more, not only awful but also drenched in water. In his mind it makes sense but his body doesn't seem to agree. He really only feels awful.

Eventually there’s a new knock at the door. ‘Liam?’ Louis’ voice sounds through the door. ‘Just checking that you aren’t drowning.’ If this wasn’t the most horrible thing Liam has ever experienced he’d be a bit flustered at the way Louis Tomlinson is looking after him, and also smile a little. He doesn’t, though.

‘’m fine,’ he says and hopes Louis can hear him.

‘Okay,’ Louis says. It sounds as though he’s about to say something else, but then there are steps again and Liam is left alone. Alone with his suffering. He still feels like throwing up, but it’s not so violently present anymore, the feeling of his insides withering in agony.

He decides that he can’t occupy Louis Tomlinson’s shower any longer. He wants to go back to the sofa and hide under blankets. It being Louis Tomlinson’s sofa be damned. He will be a sofa-occupant until he’s recovered because, one, he doesn’t know how far away from his flat he is, and two, he most importantly is certain he’d faint even trying to comprehend how to get home. If, three, he managed to make it down the stairs first, that is.

Nope, he’s not got any shame left anyway, he thinks as he tries to pull on his boxers after halfheartedly drying himself a bit with the towel. He will hijack that sofa and then, when he feels better, he will disappear out of Louis Tomlinson’s life forever and try to forget about this horrible episode of his life as soon as he can. He buttons his shirt as well as he can, ignores some of the buttons and then he decides to stand up. To sit on the floor and getting dressed is a new low in his life. He considers puking again a little bit but concludes that that is not an issue right now. He needs to lay down very carefully and shut everything out. He decides to not put on his jeans, risky as that is, but they’re horribly tight so he’ll have to struggle to get them on. It was a nightmare getting them off. He rolls them up in a bundle and climbs to his feet. He feels so disgusting wearing the same boxers and the same shirt as last night, but hey, at least it matches the rest of him.

He carefully opens the door and returns to the living room, where he falls down on the sofa after grabbing a woolly blanket on the floor, which he buries himself under. Quickly, he realises that that’s not a good idea, since it doesn’t take long until he feels like he’s suffocating. When he untangles himself from the tready blanket, which takes longer than anticipated, he sees Louis Tomlinson perched on one of the armchairs' armrest. Like some fluffy bird.

‘Brought you Berocca and painkillers,’ he says and gestures towards the table where, in the middle of glossy magazines and a couple of unwashed plates, an actual flowery tray stands, with a glass filled with palely yellow effervescent liquid. It looks alluring, but it also makes Liam’s stomach turn a little. ‘Do you want some toast?’ Louis asks. ‘I would cook for you, like, proper English, but I actually can’t cook very well. Harry’s banned me from using the kitchen.’ Liam makes a little sound far back in his throat and tries to smile, to show some gratitude towards Louis, but Louis just keeps talking. ‘I’m sure Harry would have cooked you eggs and sausages and beans, like, his cooking is curing hangovers in no time because it’s so tasty.’ Louis’ eyes are travelling around the room and never really focusing on Liam. It’s kind of odd. ‘But he had to go to work so he left earlier this morning. Luckily I didn’t drink that much last night or else I wouldn’t have let him leave.’

Liam suddenly feels awful again. Was he the only one who was drunk last night? Or, well, the only one plastered off his face? If he had one wish right now, it would be to be able to remember exactly what happened. ‘I’m fine, don’t need to cook for me,’ he says, and his voice sounds a bit strangled. This time Louis looks at him and smiles a little, and it would feel better. Except everything is so awful. ‘How did I end up in your flat? And sorry,’ he adds quickly, before Louis answers.

‘Don’t apologise! No need, stuff happens.’ Louis grins again. ‘Well, you got terribly drunk. You kept saying you were fine, that you’d walk home and the cold air would make you sober up, and shit like that. Harry and I decided that was bollocks as you fell into a wall when we started walking home, so when we passed ours we just dragged you with us up here.’

Liam is again certain he’d blush so much Louis would go blind, if he wasn’t feeling so ill. ‘What about Niall? And thanks for looking after me,’ he blurts out.

‘Oh!’ Louis laughs a little and fingers at a needlework pillow that looks extremely out of context in Louis’ arms, tattooed and tanned as they are. It would fit better in some slender aristocratically pale hands. ‘He went home with Zayn, an hour or so before we left.’

If Liam wasn’t in a state of dying, this would make him jump up and shout WHAT but now he merely opens his eyes a little wider and half-whispers ‘What? He did?’

‘Mhm,’ Louis says and nods. His eyes are twinkling conspiratorially and Liam didn’t know he was the kind of person to use such a word, but it popped up in his brain as soon as Louis looked at him like that. It’s sort of nice. ‘Haven’t heard a word from Zayn since, even though I’ve sent him like a million texts.’

Liam pats his jeans frantically. Where’s his phone? Where’s his wallet, at second thought. Where’s his keys? Just as he starts to panic, thinking about how he’ll have to make like a dozen calls to cancel his cards, but he doesn’t have his phone, and oh dear he’ll have to change locks again or his landlord will kick him and Niall out – just then Louis says ‘Got your phone, by the way. It’s in the kitchen. Harry thought it looked like it’d hurt, sleeping with it in your pockets so he took everything out after you’d passed out in here. He wanted to undress you as well, lend you a pajamas but I stopped him. Said it would be creepy.’

Liam wrinkles his nose. ‘It probably would.’

‘Ha! Said so. Anyway, yeah, those two were all over each other last night and eventually left together.’ Louis gives Liam another soft smile, and Liam is hit with a sudden urge to kiss him. It’s kind of weird. But he remembers being absolutely smitten with Louis Tomlinson last night, before everything got blurry at the edges. He blinks a couple of times, and can’t stop a yawn from sneaking out.

‘Do you want to take a nap? I was planning on getting some extra sleep as well, so won’t blame you if you do.’ Liam can’t stop looking at Louis’ mouth, so he decides that a nap might be a great idea to get his mind off how awful everything is. Like, a crush on top of a horrible hangover seems to be the worst combo in his entire life.

‘Yes. Is it okay if I stay, though?’ he asks, voice embarrassingly raspy. But then again, Louis Tomlinson has heard Liam vomit, so. ‘Sorry.’

‘No apologies! Not allowed. I’ll leave you to it,’ Louis says and hops down from the armrest. He still looks as a fluffy bird, as he closes the living room door after making a silly face.

-

Liam is hundred percent decided he’s not going to drink tonight. In fact, he has pledged to never touch alcohol ever again. After that horrible night, a couple of weeks ago, he’s pretty much only left the library to go to the gym. He’s decided to erase all of it, especially the day after, completely from his memory. The night itself kind of is already erased from his memory. Since he still can't remember a lot.

Unfortunately, the erasure of the day after hasn’t gone too well, what with Niall having a crisis ever since as Zayn never texted him back after that night, and thus Liam has had to hear a lot of information about Any Other Direction and all its members. Including Louis Tomlinson. Who’s now up on that stage in front of him and Niall.

So, well. Everything is still clear in Liam’s mind, horribly, horrendously, terribly clear. But, drinking, he won’t. Niall has already tried to get him to do shots when they’ve pushed through the crowd in front of the stage to get to the bar, but Liam has asked for water every single time. He doesn’t want to be here, and he especially doesn’t want to be here while drunk because he’d surely end up on Louis’ bathroom floor puking his guts up again. That’s Murphy’s Law for you.

His plan is to be a Great Friend to Niall, and he’s not going to think about Louis at all and he’s not going to be drunk and that’s it. He smiles towards Niall, but Niall doesn’t return it. They’re being pushed backwards and forwards in the crowd – this isn’t like that gig at the pub the other week, this is a Proper Gig with a Proper Audience. Niall looks awfully grumpy and keeps glaring at Zayn behind his drums. Liam doesn’t think that Zayn can see Niall, but as Liamblooks up there to further study the confusion that's Niall And Zayn Louis suddenly comes into view and they lock eyes.

Liam blushes immediately but can’t look away. Jesus _Christ_ , isn’t this the worst thing ever. Maybe he actually should do some shots.

-

He doesn’t do any shots, but Niall gets absolutely pissed. Still, for some reason Liam doesn’t at all end up dragging Niall home and then making sure he won’t, like, puke and suffocate on his own vomit by watching over him all night, as Liam had anticipated he would have to do the moment Niall started wobbling. It takes a lot for Niall to get drunk, but when he does, he can’t stay on the level of tipsy. He always gets tremendously trashed.

However, instead of having the horrendous troubles of trying to get Niall on a night bus and then trying to convince the driver that Niall won’t at all throw up, it’s a promise, Sir!, and having to actually make sure Niall _doesn’t_ vomit by whispering hold it in, hold it in, Ni, soon we’re off this bus, then you can puke, just a bit longer, Ni, _instead_ , Liam ends up on the very same sofa he couldn’t move from a few weeks ago. With the head of a Harry Styles in his lap, and a Niall Horan snoring on his shoulder. Harry Styles is telling Liam, slowly and droopy-eyedly, about a fight which Zayn and Louis have had a couple of nights ago, and how that ruined tonight’s gig (and Harry doesn’t listen at all to how Liam assures him he couldn’t tell, no one noticed, surely, the gig was great), and which is also the reason to why Zayn is out on the balcony just now smoking furiously and Louis is in the kitchen beneath the kitchen fan also smoking furiously. Harry’s voice is rather loud and Liam thinks that both Zayn and Louis might hear every word he says, because the fan isn’t that loud and the door to the balcony isn't completely closed. He feels that Harry might be talking to them rather than to him.

He also thinks, he’s actually quite certain, that Zayn wouldn’t be here if Niall wasn’t asleep on Liam’s shoulder. It’s something he will tell Niall tomorrow, and it feels like that is the only reason to why he’s not going home, because, to be honest, from what Harry tells him the fight sounds utterly pointless and he’s also extremely tired and he had planned on going to the library early tomorrow morning to get some writing done.

‘Hey, Harry,’ he says. Harry blinks up at him, a little bit like he’s forgotten whose lap he’s lying in, and Liam tries not to feel offended. ‘I might have to leave in a bit.’

‘Right,’ Harry says, but he doesn’t move, kind of as though he doesn’t relate Liam’s word to the fact that he will have to move himself to enable Liam’s leaving to happen. Liam feels trapped.

The kitchen fan is suddenly turned off, and Louis steps into the living room. His hair is ruffled, pointing everywhere, and his mouth is set in a hard line. Harry lifts a hand as though he is going to touch Louis, as though Louis isn’t in the other end of the room. ‘Lou,’ he says. ‘Sit down, have a chat with me and Liam.’

Louis sits down on the floor, resting his head against the armchair. Liam is suddenly very aware of that Harry’s head is in his lap.

‘What you chatting ‘bout?’ Louis asks, flatly. Liam thinks it’s matching the look in his eyes. It’s a rather pointless thought to have, but he can’t unthink it and he can’t stop looking at Louis’ eyes.

Harry breathes in deeply. ‘I’m inclined to change the subject as we were chatting –’ he makes an uncanny pause here, and closes his eyes halfway ‘– about you and Zayn being crybabies.’

Louis pulls his legs up and hugs them and looks as though he has a million words he’d like to say, but he keeps his mouth shut.

‘We didn’t say it in that way,’ Liam adds abruptly, and his voice sounds strangled. ‘I really think I should go.’

Harry still doesn’t move, and neither does Louis. Niall snores loudly, again, and everybody jumps a little. Harry crawls off Liam’s lap and stands up, shaking Niall softly. Louis is looking down on his knees, so Liam goes to the balcony and slides it open.

‘Zayn?’

Zayn turns around, eyes soft and nose red. It’s cold out there. ‘Me and Ni are leaving, just wanted to let you know.’ Liam isn’t sure if he’s going out there and telling Zayn this to be kind to him, to offer him to leave with them, or if he’s somehow telling it since he wants Zayn to know that Niall is leaving. Maybe it’s a combination of both. He feels tired; everything on his mind feels like a big blurry cloud, melting together.

Zayn nods. ‘See you soon. And say hi to Niall from me when he’s not plastered.’ There’s a tiny smile hid behind all that cigarette smoke he’s figuratively taking shelter in. Liam wants to hug him, even though he doesn’t know him that well, so when Zayn goes over to do just that he’s contently surprised. When Zayn lets go off him, he’s somehow become ushered inside, and Zayn closes the balcony door.

‘Li?’ Niall is waiting by the door and looks completely out of it. He’s resting his head on the wall, and Harry’s holding a hand on his waist, not completely holding him up but Liam is still somehow pretty sure Niall wouldn’t be standing up if Harry wasn’t doing just that. Louis is still at the floor, but with his back against Liam. Liam puts his shoes on without looking at Louis, and he nods convincingly towards Niall when he asks if Liam still likes him even though he’s such a twat, and Harry laughs a little and Liam still doesn’t look at Louis.

Then Louis comes over, tugging at his sleeves and Harry gets a wrinkle on his forehead. ‘Get home safe,’ Louis says, throatily. Liam nods and wipes at his eyes. They stand there, quietly, all four of them. Harry’s chewing at his lip as though the taste is enchanting. Gross, Liam thinks for a second before realising he’s himself chewing at his thumbnail. ‘Liam,’ Louis says then, and he sounds desperate. ‘Give me your number, so you can text me that you got back safely.’ He says it so quickly he’s stumbling over the words ‘number’ and text’ so they more sound like ‘numbrer’ and ‘tekt’ and Liam’s mind is being slow, as though he doesn’t understand, as though he has to decipher it, even though he doesn’t. Even though he understands perfectly.

‘Yeah,’ he says at last. At last, after another eternity during which no one has moved the slightest. He rattles the number off like it’s a prayer he’s saying to Louis’ pale eyes, and Louis makes him repeat it since he didn’t have his phone ready, and then repeat it again so he’s sure it’s the right one and both times Liam again says it as though it’s a prayer to Louis’ eyes. He’s not looked at Niall or Harry for all the while he’s been repeating numbers to Louis but now he grabs Niall’s arm and chokes out a ‘bye’ and they leave. The door being shut is terribly loud, but somehow they get home even though the sound echoing in his mind is drowning everything else.

It feels as though everything’s changed even though he cannot think of what that would be, or why everything in the air is so solemn as they walk in the morning light to their flat. Niall is completely quiet the entire time and Liam isn’t sure if he feels like he’s flying or like he’s drowning.

-

They start texting a lot after that. Liam sent _home now, thx_ the moment they stepped into the flat, but Louis didn’t respond until the evening the next day, when he sent a link to a Youtube video, nothing else. As Liam was in the library and hadn’t brought any earphones he didn’t click the link until he got home. It was a song, no video or even lyrics, but he really liked the song and listened to it three times in a row while waiting for his spaghetti to cook.

He sent back _nice song !!!_ and then waited for a response while eating, but didn’t get one. After showering and getting ready for bed, there still wasn’t a text from Louis, so he sent _how are u btw? Niall hasn’t left his room all day_ and it only took seconds until Louis sent him back _aww poor man! Im good. Harry made scrambled eggs this morn. Godsend ha x_

Liam stares at the x and tries to decide what it’s making him feel. There’s definitely a spark of happiness in him, he concludes, and sends back _jealoussss! I had to survive on cereals and yoghurt lol x_

The fact that he sends back an x feels terribly scary and the wait for a reply is nerve-wracking, even though Louis was the first to send an x. He feels a bit like he’s twelve years old rather than in his twenties, but oh well. He can’t help it.

They keep texting, about their favourite cereals and favourite shoe brands and Louis sends a few more songs and whatnot, until Liam says he needs to go sleep. In the morning he wakes up to more songs, and he listens carefully while he’s at the gym, doing reps, and then he sends back a long text where he comments on all of them. They pretty much text during the entire day, nonstop, and then it continues like that. It can be anything. Liam sees a squirrel when he’s on his morning run – as soon as he’s finished he sends _saw a squirrel so cuuuute x_. Louis is for lunch with Harry and Zayn – sends a picture of Harry having a piece of lettuce on his cheek without knowing and adds the details of the place and says that Liam will have to go there sometime. Liam is in the library doing reading and sends _haha this guy’s name is Dick Swan hahaha x_. Louis is doing song writing and sends different lines with tiny alterations and asks Liam which one sounds the best. Liam is visiting his parents and texts Louis 38 times and is starting to get worried because Louis isn’t replying, and then he realises there’s no network out there, so his texts haven’t even left his phone. Louis is out drinking and sends _Li you should be here! Were at the crombo plz come ! xxx_

There’s three x’s and Louis has never sent Liam three x’s before and Liam thinks of that one post he saw on his Instagram feed once which said ‘If she doesn’t text you while she’s drunk you’re not the number one bae’ and he quickly saves his work and packs all his stuff and leaves the library. When he’s in the stairs up to his flat, after a brisk walk which kind of left him breathless, there’s another text from Louis: _Z says yes you should be here! Mabye just bec he wants u to bring Nialll but I want YOU to be here : ) xxxx_

Liam blinks at his phone. ‘Niall!’ he calls out as soon as he opens the door. ‘You have to go out with me, now,’ he says when Niall has mumbled ‘what?’ from his room. Liam goes in there. Niall is in bed but his eyes look kind of awake. If Liam squints. ‘Do you want to go out?’

‘Now?’ Niall asks. ‘I was almost asleep, what time is it?’ Liam is wandering around the room and now he throws a shirt on Niall, followed by a pair of black jeans with holes on their knees.

‘It’s only half eleven. Put these on!’ He ends up in front of Niall’s mirror and looks at himself hastily, eyes dancing over his face. He looks alive. His eyes are bright and then his phone buzzes again. It’s Louis, and the text only says _their playing can I with sakert! The one you liked huryr upPxx_

Niall hasn’t left the bed, Liam realises as he turns around. ‘Hey, come on! We’re gonna be late.’ It will take them at least twenty minutes to walk to Crombonian, the weird pub Any Other Direction has deemed their favourite place to get hammered at. So Louis has told Liam.

Niall’s face is strangely wrinkled. ‘What’s going on, Li? Where are we going?’

‘To Crombonian!’ Liam says. He pulls at Niall’s foot a little, the one which is strategically placed outside the duvet, so the temperature will be right. Niall’s weird like that. Liam, on the other hand, buries himself under a goose down duvet, (how _terribly_ fancy, Louis said) and two extra blankets and he’s still cold every night. They’re saving money by not having the heating on but Liam isn’t sure it’s worth it. But Niall doesn’t make that much money from babysitting so he doesn’t want to bring it up.

‘Why?’ Niall asks carefully. His face is less wrinkled and there’s something soft in his eyes all of sudden. Liam wants to wipe that face off Niall, too. It’s like he knows something Liam doesn’t.

Liam doesn’t have an answer that’s not going to sound strange – in fact, he’s not entirely sure why he kind of feels like he _needs_ to go to Crombonian right now. Just because Louis wants him to be there. ‘Zayn’s there,’ he says and doesn’t look at Niall. He feels a bit like he’s lying to Niall. That he’s playing some kind of game that Niall hasn’t signed up for, or doesn’t even know the rules to. But it’s true. Zayn _is_ there and specifically _asked_ for Niall, so, like, Liam’s not lying.

Niall sits up in the bed and gives Liam a hard look.

Liam swallows. ‘Can we please go? I really want to.’ He thinks that metaphorically he just swallowed his pride except that final little bit of it, which he’s still hiding on the tip of his tongue blade, by not uttering Louis’ name. In fact, he’s not entirely sure he’s even admitting it to himself, all that. He’s just thinking in figurative terms, is all.

‘Okay,’ Niall says slowly. ‘We’ll go.’ Liam thinks that Niall still looks like he knows something Liam doesn’t, and Liam decides not to ask. After changing in to a shirt and clean jeans, and his nicest trainers, Niall is finished styling his hair and they’re off.

They’re not sure if they remembered to lock the door, but they convince each other they did, that they both _do_ remember locking it, very clearly, because they’re already halfway there and the night air is cold against their cheeks and Liam thinks that he can see in Niall’s eyes how he, too, feels like this night is just borrowed time, so they can’t let it slip out from their grasps. Not for something silly like locking a door anyway.

They arrive there with red cheeks, and the music coming out from the pub is loud. Niall rubs his hands together, weirdly, like some old man, and Liam asks him to stay with him for a smoke, before going inside. Niall looks relieved and they huddle together by one of the electric heat-thingies and Liam inhales smoke as though it’s life he’s breathing into his lungs. While it’s kind of the opposite. His phone hasn’t buzzed since that last text and he would worry, he would, if Niall wasn’t babbling to him about pointless things, looking a little bit drunk already even though they’re both soberer than ever, somehow. Everything’s so clear and so on edge and Liam wants to light up another cigarette when he’s finished the first one, but Niall has seen him stubbing it out on the fancy ashtray, so he’s already by the door showing his I.D. to the bouncer.

Inside, the music is obviously louder than outside and Liam has got goosebumps. He wants to show it to Niall, but he’s a couple of steps behind him, and then suddenly Niall laughs loudly and there they are, Louis and Zayn and Harry and a couple of other people that Liam doesn’t know. They’re all sitting around a table, and it looks very crowded. Liam waves and Louis waves back. He smiles and Liam smiles back. Then he blinks. Harry, who’s kind of in the lap of a dark-haired small woman, pats his arm. ‘Liam, take a seat!’

‘Oh, right,’ Liam says. He’s not sure if he’s stood there for a very long time. He hopes not, but Niall is already submerged into Zayn’s side. It’s like a booth, they’re sitting by. It’s very crowded. ‘I’ll, um, go and borrow a chair from somewhere,’ Liam says. He makes a vague gesture towards the bar and feels empty. The woman next to Harry gives Liam a smile but he’s not sure if he returns it properly. He wonders who she is, and who the other two people are that he doesn’t know. He turns his back and navigates over to the bar, all the while looking for an empty chair. There’s, like, jackets and stuff on every chair he thinks looks empty, so he ends up by the bar eventually, all chairless.

He starts counting the bottles behind the bartender, just to have something to do, or maybe to tune out the ringing tone in his ears, or maybe otherwise to stop thinking of how this wasn’t how it was meant to go. Again, he feels like he’s twelve years old.

‘Yeah?’ the bartender says to him and Liam feels off balance. The bartender has nice eyes but she also looks extremely stressed and Liam’s mouth is completely dry. ‘Whatcha like?’

‘Umm –‘

‘Two vodka cokes, please,’ a voice is coming from Liam’s side. The bartender nods and fetches two glasses. Liam turns around and sees Louis there, still smiling. He can’t help but smile back. Then he feels nervous, all of a sudden. He tries to get his wallet up from the back pocket of his jeans but Louis grabs his wrist. ‘Can I buy you this one?’

Liam wants to say no, but then again, wouldn’t that be rude? ‘Okay, thanks,’ he says. They’ve not seen each other since that night where Louis and Zayn were fighting, but it feels like they have, since they’ve been texting each other so much. Louis is still holding his wrist, but now he lets go. Liam feels sad about that, confusedly sad, until Louis shoves a drink in his hand and pulls him out on the tiny tiny dancefloor that doesn’t quite count as a dancefloor since this is a pub and not a nightclub.

They still dance; Louis is drunk but not, like, hammered, just tipsily happy and Liam is, too, drunk on, like, the feeling of everything. ‘I’m happy you asked me to come,’ he says, leaning close to Louis and maybe he’s had a few more drinks since that first one, he’s not sure. He’s not sure for how long they’ve been dancing and he can’t tell what song it is that’s on, nor what songs have been on.

‘I’m too!’ Louis says and his hand is on Liam’s arm, tightly grabbing around his bicep and Liam thinks of how nice it feels, just like that, one single _how nice_ floating around in his brain. He’s glad he stops himself from saying it out loud but then they’re outside and Louis asks if Liam has a lighter. He has, he thinks so, he had one earlier. He finds his packet of White Prince and in there he’s jammed the fluorescently blue lighter. That way he never loses it. It’s foolproof. He thinks he should tell Louis that, give him a tip, but something in his brain tells him not to, tells him that then Louis would never ask him for a lighter again. And he sort of likes it when he does.

He hands the lighter to Louis and grins. It’s raining a little bit, a fine drizzle, and it feels good against his bare arms. Cooling him down.

‘Thanks,’ Louis says through his teeth, struggling to light his cigarette, huddled over it. Liam goes over and holds his hands out, sheltering the cigarette from the wind and rain. It finally catches, and Louis gives the lighter back and Liam lights one of his own.

They smoke in silence, leaning against the brick wall opposite the pub, but every so often Louis bumps his shoulder into Liam’s, as though he can’t stand still. Liam thinks that he understands Louis, that there’s something inside him, too, that’s bursting and making it impossible to not _do_ something. He bumps back and Louis turns around quickly, smiling with his entire face. Liam thinks he’s glowing. Glowing, while Liam is burning up on the insides.

Then, Louis gets that conspiratorial look in his eyes again. Liam feels warm. ‘Can I kiss you?’ Louis asks, all offbeat and offhand and _off_.

Liam flicks ashes off his cigarette and thinks _is this me trying to act cool?_ Then he nods, quickly. Louis’ lips quirks a little. ‘Good to know,’ he says. Liam looks at his smile and folds it up and saves it in a little box. Metaphorically speaking. Louis inspires a lot of metaphors, he reflects. It’s strange. But also nice. The _how nice_ floats back into his brain.

‘Why won’t you?’ he asks, words falling ungraciously out of his mouth. ‘Like, right now?’

‘I would. But, like. We’re both drunk and I’m not sure if you actually want it and before you protest I’m not sure there isn’t anyone around to pap us. Like, don’t want that. Can I have a cig from you?’

Liam gives him one, and their fingers brushes together and it stings. Liam thinks that maybe it’s enough. Maybe it counts just as much.

‘Plus, you saw what happened with Zayn and Niall when they went too fast. Like, I gotta learn from a brother’s mistakes, don’t I.’ Louis kind of swallows all his t’s and Liam thinks that he likes that. He can tell that Louis’ accent is entirely his own, but also entirely everyone else’s, that he’s picked up features from here and there, and it’s just right, it’s Louis’ own and it’s also shared with others. It’s _nice_.

He feels the need to protest about Niall and Zayn, considering what state they were in when they went back to the booth a while ago, but he can’t make it sound harsh or even convincingly enough to show that he’s actually disagreeing with Louis. His voice is all soft and he’s probably smiling dopily. He doesn’t mind too much. ‘But they were snogging. So, like, can’t have been that many mistakes.’ He stops, thinks, tries to find the right words and Louis is quiet, smiling around his cigarette. The cigarette that was Liam’s. Before. ‘Or at least it led to something good.’

Louis bumps into Liam again, now with his hips, and then he puts a hand there, resting on Liam’s waist, lightly. ‘But I don’t want to make any mistakes with you, none at all.’

Liam wants a little bit to yell YOU SHOULD MAKE EVERY MISTAKE WITH ME, I WOULDN’T MIND but he keeps quiet. It’s weird. The pub opposites them radiates light and so does Louis and his hand radiates warmth and it makes Liam feel like he’s standing in an alleyway in Rome a late evening in the summer, even though he’s never been there, even though it’s still drizzling, even though it’s London and there’s some garbage bins next to them.

But they only stand there, and keep bumping into each other and neither make a mistake and Liam isn’t upset about it.

-

Louis giggles against his arm, his fringe tickling against that soft skin at the inside of Liam’s elbow. If this is was living is, sitting on the riverbank and not feeling the cold because he's so tipsy, with Louis’ laughter tinkling like the stars above them, then Liam wants to do it the rest of his life.

They went to the aquarium earlier. It felt like a date, but neither of them said it. They biked there, and it felt extremely like a date, but neither of them said it. And when they went, afterwards, to get some wine and crackers and cheese and grapes from the nearest Tesco, and they joked about how it was like a date, how silly, it still didn’t stop at all feeling like a date. Liam knows Louis thinks the same, and he giggles too. Everything’s just so nice.

Louis pulls the sleeves down over his hands after he’s drunk from the wine bottle they got from the corner store just a while ago, and handed it over to Liam. He looks warm and Liam realises he’s pretty cold himself, when his fingers meet the icy bottle. He doesn’t mind. ‘I like the blowfish,’ he says, for maybe the fourth time, because Louis came up with this thing earlier, which has now developed into a proper game even though they never officially decided on any rules, that they would say ‘replay’ and the other had to do what they just did over again.

Louis giggles helplessly and falls down on his back, hair spreading out in the grass. ‘The blowfish,’ he mumbles with his eyes closed.  

They’ve still not kissed. Liam isn’t terribly upset because it kind of feels like they have. Everything’s sparkling, like champagne bubbles, anyway. Earlier, after their picnic, they had gone to this bar and had a few drinks and then Louis had pulled Liam with him, told him ‘you laugh open-mouthed. Soundlessly’ and they’d gone into the one of the loos, the disability one, Liam had realised later, as they left. It’s strange he didn’t realise earlier, what with the rail around the toilet and how low the sink was sitting, but he hadn’t. In there, they had sat on the floor and leaned their heads against the tiles and maybe it was a bit gross, that they were sitting on that floor, Liam had thought, but it had been this single thought that he hadn’t been able to catch; it had been chased away by Louis telling him stories about exactly in what way everyone he knew laughed and how Louis wanted to contain it in words but it never sounded pretty enough, not as pretty as the real thing. He had talked for ages about Liam’s laughter, rambling sentences and wild hand gestures, eyes matching the movements. Liam had felt shy and kept quiet, sipping on his drink, but unable to stop himself from smiling.

Someone had banged at the door after a while, grunted something about how he hoped they weren’t shagging in there because he was the one who would have to clean. Louis and Liam had only laughed. There had been a moment where Liam had thought _shouldn’t we be kissing?_ but Louis had grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and not let it go but started playing with his fingers and humming under his breath. Liam had felt bubbles bursting under his skin, everywhere, and then he managed to knock over his vodka coke with his free hand but it didn’t get on their clothes and soon they left, sneaking out of there as though it was a game. Maybe it was, and maybe it still is, but it’s the kind of game you don’t want to stop. Liam lies down next to Louis, on his side, and looks carefully at Louis’ closed eyes.

‘Stop staring, you freak,’ Louis mumbles, words jumbled and his smile distorting it all.

‘’m not,’ Liam says and stays where he is. Louis opens his eyes, slowly, first one and then the other, and he laughs again, wrinkles spreading out around his eyes.

‘You sure are, look at you being all creepy.’

Liam debates whether he should ask Louis if he could kiss him this time, or if he should just leave it be. Sometimes he’s disappointed in himself, in how he’s never making a move or initiates stuff. How he kind of lets the world sweep him away without him actively taking part in it.

Eventually, he lies back down and closes his eyes, too. Louis’ fingers grip around his wrist and it’s wet in the grass and Liam smiles, despite of himself.

-

Liam is having a hangover. And he’s in the library. It’s not terribly bad, the hangover, more like a dull headache just above his left eyebrow. Mentally, however, he feels rather awful. He thinks he needs to stop drinking, he can’t continue doing this, as he jots down a few notes about some Law or other. He’s not getting a lot done, and he’s not even having that many deadlines coming up, but he feels like he should be in the library. He bites on his thumbnail as he scrolls down in the slideshow. He picks up his phone, since the screen lights up with a snapchat from one of his coursemates.

After looking at it, the eight seconds showing a single beer glass captioned _freedom Sunday yoooo_ , he opens up Facebook. Louis had said he didn’t really use Facebook a lot anymore, but he had accepted Liam’s friend request eventually, and Liam has slowly been going through Louis’ photos and whatnot the last couple of days, a bit like he doesn’t want to do it too quickly because he’s worried about what he will discover. There’s a bunch of photos of Louis and Zayn, when they seem to be about fifteen, both thin and mostly in too large hoodies, beer cans ever so often appearing in those photos. Kind of like they’ve placed them there intentionally. Like props.

Harry hasn’t started appearing in the photos, but he does so now, when Liam gets to photos from three years ago, and they’re a bit unsettling. They are so attached to each other, Louis and Harry, so many selfies where they make kissy faces at the camera, cheeks pressed together. Photos where they lounge around in just underwear, hanging off each other’s shoulders.

Liam thinks about it, closes his phone and stares at the computer screen. He’s not sure. If he’s missing something. Or if he’s just being silly. Or if maybe that’s why Louis never kisses him or maybe he’s being extremely silly now. Like some kind of overgrown jealous baby.

Or maybe he’s just hungover and sad. He doesn’t know. He opens his phone again, scrolls past some photos of Louis and Zayn, but stops at one where Louis makes a face, closing his mouth and winding his eyes, and Zayn smiles genuinely, tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. Louis looks awful, especially in comparison to Zayn, and yet Liam feels like he’s on the verge of laughing when he sees it, just because Louis pulls that particular face. He’s seen it rather often. He likes that, how Louis is in a way the same person as back then, but yet someone else, that he’s changed since then – and he thinks, quietly (even though all thinking is quiet, but in fact, he decides, this thinking is _extra_ quiet), that maybe Louis has changed a little because of Liam. That Liam’s made an impact on Louis.

He contemplates sending a text to Louis. Or maybe to Harry. To see what’s actually the truth, dramatic as that may sound. He drags a hand across his face, and Niall, who’s sat opposite him by another computer, leans over to tap him on his nose. ‘Hey,’ he whispers. ‘Whats’a matter?’

Niall is pretty bad at whispering, and Liam looks around himself. No one seems annoyed. He still feels like they would be annoyed. He thinks for a split second that he would be annoyed if he didn’t know Niall. He keeps his mouth shut – even though he’s great at whispering, but he’s sure that if he replied it would prompt more failed whispering from Niall – and nods towards the elevators. After locking his computer and making sure he’s brought his phone and wallet, they take the elevator down to the ground floor, and go outside. It’s sunny, like that kind of Sunday sun which is a little pale and annoyingly reminding you of everything you haven’t done, and that if you had done it you could be outside right now and get some fresh air. It’s ridiculously fitting with Liam’s mood. He lights up a cigarette and sits down on the cold ground, Niall following suit.

‘Why do you look like the entire world’s offended you?’ Niall asks, making grabby hands for the lighter which Liam was just about to put back in his jeans pockets. He doesn’t understand why everyone always borrows his lighter.

Liam sniffs and takes a long drag on his cigarette. He’s not sure why he didn’t think of the brilliant idea to ask Niall about the entire thing, but now it feels difficult to do so.

‘Still hanging?’ Niall asks, leaning his head against the bricked wall behind them. The library is on this small street, but there’s never any cars, so instead the students outside are piling out on the street. A lot of them are doing the same as Niall and Liam, sitting with their backs against the wall of the building opposite the library, since that’s where the sun’s at.

‘Yeah, a little.’ Liam blows out the cigarette smoke. Louis knows how to make rings of smoke. He said he’d teach Liam at some point. ‘Not really why I’m upset. Maybe it’s part of it or, like, contributing.’

‘Why’s it then?’ Niall pushes his shoe against Liam’s.

‘Why doesn’t Zayn live with Louis and Harry?’ Liam blurts out. He’s not sure he’ll get the right answer to that, but it’s a start.

‘Oh,’ Niall says. ‘Hmm, good question. I’ve never thought of that.’ Liam doesn’t like that. In a way he does. In a way, since it’s not like Niall says _well, since Harry and Louis are gettin’ it on like bloody rabbits I don’t think Zayn would be too comfortable living with them_.

Really. Liam should be grateful Niall didn’t say that. And to be honest, the question wasn’t really worded well enough, that Niall _that_ easily could pick up on what Liam’s intentions were. It’s just that he can’t do it, he can’t just ask it, because what if Niall gives him that answer anyway. Liam rubs a bit on his knee and keeps his mouth shut, while Niall babbles on about Zayn and Zayn’s previous flatmate, and everything else that has absolutely nothing to do with Louis.

He keeps quiet while the photos, now a bit blurred, flash before his eyes, distorted in his memory.

-

Liam has told Niall he’s ill. That he’s got a mild version of the flu, and no, Niall doesn’t need to bring anything and no, Liam won’t be upset if Niall stays in the library all day, because yes, of course he understands that Niall has to finish his essay since it’s due tomorrow, and no, he’s not mad at all, he’ll be fine, and yes, he’ll text Niall if he’s worse.

Liam’s not ill at all. He’s just not up for doing anything. He’s turned his phone off, and he’s not talked to anyone in two days. (And for the record he hasn’t talked to Louis in a week.) Niall came home after midnight last night, and Liam had shut his door and pretended he was asleep. (Louis has sent a lot of messages and phoned a couple of times. Mostly the last three days.) And this morning, when Liam heard the door click – Niall must have closed it carefully rather than only letting it slam shut – Liam dared to leave his room for a morning piss. In the kitchen he found a note which said _hope you’re feeling better! I bought you orange juice and chocolate, it’s in the fridge. Not the chocolate, it’s in the cupboard. Text me!! cocococo_

The _cocococo_ bit made Liam smile a little, since it’s referring to that time Niall was a bit drunk, on holiday in Greece, and sent a Facebook message where he misspelt absolutely every word. Including the kisses and hugs.

But yeah, Liam is not ill. He is just strangely sad. A bit, like, embarrassingly so. He doesn’t have a real reason for it. And he knows he might be completely wrong, and then it would suck if he ruined it. But he’s more worried he _isn’t_ wrong, and finding that out would be – would be what? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to find out. He’s been working out a lot. Light exercises that he can do at home. The other week Harry gave him his yoga mat, since he said he didn’t use it and maybe Liam wanted to try yoga at some point since he looks so fit, that’s what Harry said. Liam is probably never going to try yoga, but he didn’t want to tell Harry that, and it was weird, really, him thanking Harry for something that he at the same time thought he’d never use. Now he’s using it, now he’s doing crunches on it and a whole range of other exercises he found on a Youtube channel. He’s doubling the reps though, because when he’s exercising he’s not thinking so much. He’s got a pile of dirty workout clothes in the corner of his room, since he can’t put them in the laundry bag as that would maybe make Niall figure out Liam’s not ill at all.

He’s acting like he’s twelve and Niall is his mum, but, like. What’s the options, really.

He considers snapchatting a picture of the yoga mat to Harry, to thank him properly, show him that he’s using it (even though not for yoga), but he also thinks _Harry_ angrily without even noticing. It’s like this dull annoyance, in the back of his brain. He feels unfair, but he can’t stop it. Plus that he’s not looked at his phone these two days at all, so he doesn’t want to get it out for this. He hopes Niall hasn’t texted him too much or, like, his mum. Or uni. Maybe he actually should check it.

He doesn’t want to. He put it in the kitchen, in the bottom drawer where they keep a rolling pin and some leftover plastic shot glasses and a packet of napkins with orange balloons on them, after muting it so it wouldn’t suddenly vibrate or something when Niall was having breakfast. Liam still doesn’t know why he put it precisely there, but it felt good. Like he was getting rid of some tension, some itchy feeling of having to check, all the time, what’s going on. Getting rid of an unspecified fear of finding something, the something also being unspecified.

He lies on his back on the yoga mat, looking up on the ceiling. His upper lip is covered in salty sweat. He licks it and tries to follow a crack in the ceiling with his finger, closes one eye so he can focus better. Then the doorbell rings. He doesn’t move. It rings again. And again. Then it knocks. It feels like time’s moving oddly, like it leaps backwards and forwards and then stays put.

Liam goes to open. It’s Louis. He wants to close the door again but Louis is already inside. His mouth is angry. His eyes are too. It’s weird, how Liam looks at him at one piece at a time. ‘Have you been working out?’ Louis asks, voice sounding too large for the room. When Liam doesn’t respond he stomps into the kitchen and sits down on one of the chairs. Louis really does stomp. It’s like he’s a caricature of an angry person. ‘Niall said you were ill, when I texted him today. You shouldn’t be working out if you’re ill, Liam.’ He says the words as though they mean something else.

‘I’m not ill,’ Liam says and he knows he say the words in the same way as Louis, as though they mean something else.

‘Why would you say that you are, then?’ This time the words mean what they should. Or, they match their meanings. Liam’s thoughts are blurry. ‘And why haven’t you, like, answered your phone?’

Liam bites his lip.

Louis’ eyes are narrowed and he’s got his arms folded over his chest. He juts out his chin. ‘Like, I’d appreciate it if you told me you don’t want to, like – If you don’t like me, just say so.’

Liam jumps up on the kitchen desk and sits there. Niall doesn’t like it when he does so, and now he’s still sweaty, so Niall’s gonna be super mad if he finds out. He probably won’t find out though.

‘Hey –‘ Louis begins but stops himself. Puts a hand over his mouth.

‘Why won’t you kiss me?’ Liam asks, and he is surprised at how angry he sounds.

Louis blinks.

‘Is it because you fuck Harry?’

Louis blinks again but Liam doesn’t have anything else to say. He blinks too, certainly just as angrily as he asked those two questions. He didn’t know he was able to blink angrily, but apparently he is.

Louis inhales through his nose. He looks surprised. ‘Why do you –,‘ he trails off. ‘Do you want me to kiss you?’

Now Liam folds his arms. It’s like there’s a gap between them that’s unbridgeable. Another word Liam wasn’t aware that he knows. It’s like Louis and his chair is floating away. ‘You asked me if you could kiss me and you didn’t. And you never did after that either and I’m not sure what that means.’

‘Why do you think Harry and I fuck?’ Louis asks. He still looks surprised and Liam feels so angry with him, so absolutely unexplainably angry. Sitting there, on his kitchen chair, in the same Ramones t-shirt he was wearing on that day Liam nursed a hangover on his sofa, and his hair is looking equally soft and unstyled.

‘You tell me!’ Liam replies.

Louis stands up, abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor. He’s staring at Liam, so Liam quickly looks down on his folded arms. Louis walks over to him and Liam glances up and Louis is staring at him, still. ‘We don’t fuck,’ he says quietly and places a hand, carefully, as though he’s asking Liam for permission, on Liam’s knee.

‘Replay,’ Liam says, not in a whisper, which would be much more dramatic and romantic but also terribly clichéd. Louis’ fingers on his knee jolts a bit, and Liam looks up to see a little smile on Louis’ mouth.

‘We don’t fuck,’ he says.

‘Replay,’ Liam says again.

‘We don’t fuck.’

They’re both quiet for a long time, and Liam thinks that he’s leaning closer towards Louis but it’s not really noticeable because it’s happening so slowly.

‘Can I kiss you, Louis Tomlinson?’ Liam asks, and Louis nods. ‘Can I do it _now_?’ he continues, and Louis nods again.

It’s so stupid, Liam thinks and then they kiss. So terribly, terribly stupid, but then again, aren’t they both. So it kind of fits.

**Author's Note:**

> rowrow - thanks for your amazing prompts! apologies for how the story turned out... it kind of got away from me as i started writing, so maybe it's not quite what you asked for. i hope you still enjoyed! x
> 
> Ps! The song Louis refers to in one of his texts to Liam is "Can I?" by Säkert! and it's one of my favourite songs - if you want to you should look it up! It's not punk, but I like the idea of Louis sending Liam sad alternative music.


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